


Hardcore Humiliation (in a Huff)

by DefiledCinephile



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Body Worship, CofCs2, Daddy Kink, Denial, Dom/sub, Foot Fetish, Future events, Heavy Petting, HerringsHair, Licking, M/M, Masturbation, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, PrizeTaskCategory, Public Humiliation, ReadingBetweenTheLines, Self-Indulgent, Service, Teamwork, Verbal Humiliation, Voice Kink, fanficWITHINfanfic, post pandemic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29053986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefiledCinephile/pseuds/DefiledCinephile
Summary: In the not so distant future ...The pandemic is finally over, and things are quietly getting back to normal around the Taskmaster studio - and just in time too. For the second edition of Champion of Champions!
Relationships: Greg Davies/Alex Horne, Greg Davies/Richard Herring, Greg Davies/Richard Herring/Alex Horne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Hardcore Humiliation (in a Huff)

“Thank you – thank you - all of you!” 

The studio audience applauds. 

“ _SILENCE!_ Right. I’m Greg Davies – _Taskmaster of Taskmasters_ \- and welcome back – into my dungeony lair – where I’ve been gracious enough to allow members of the actual public back into the building – yes, you’re all here, back again within my divine presence - so watch – and bear witness – it’s the second edition of CHAMPION OF CHAMPIONS! Let’s meet the five comedians who’ll be vying for that most coveted of titles – and who’ll be taking home _this golden statue_ , obviously an exact replica of my own magnificently muscular bod. They’ve all won me over the first time around, but which one of our previous victors will manage to wow me once more to be crowned TASKMASTER CHAMPION OF CHAMPIONS!? Will it be … Ed Gamble!? … Kerry Godliman!? … Liza Tarbuck!? … Lou Sanders!? … Or Richard Herring!? … And here beside me, yes right back beside me, well within my clutches once more – but always, invariably, under my thumb anyway – the ever obsequious – forever fawning – desperate and defiled … it’s Little Alex Horne!”

“Hi Greg. It’s good to be back.”

“Yes, how you are, Alex? Fine being back this close to me, or are we missing the distance a little bit, d’you think?”

“No? It’s a good thing I think, it just means I need to be more prepared – ready for anything. It’ll be important to try and stay on my toes. So tonight, I'm wearing these, they’re ballet shoes, Greg.”

“Yep. And those’ll keep you on your toes, will they?”

“Eventually.” He stands, tries a few times to go up onto his tip toes. A teeter. A tumble. A full on fall. “It takes three years to build up proper strength in the metatarsals.”

“And you’ve been doing this for … ?”

“Three days, but you always say, Greg – I’m a quick study.”

There are a few polite snickers as he continually attempts the impossible. Good humoured groans.

“Okay. Sit down - before you break a fucking ankle.” 

Alex smiles sheepishly to himself as he returns to his seat. 

Greg leans over, across Alex’s arm rest, slowly pushing into his space, already taking over, resetting the tone. From behind his card, but still blatantly loud enough for all to hear, he says, “I don’t think they liked it, mate.”

Alex laughs and nods in acknowledgement. “I think I heard Richard actually huff.”

Greg shifts in his throne. “ _Did you?_ Did you huff, Rich?”

“I might’ve huffed. A bit. It was a lot tamer than I expected.”

“And you sound disappointed by that.”

“Well - now that you’re back – together again – I mean, not distanced, how it was before. It’s sort of a big deal, so I thought you’d like, definitely do _the thing._ ”

“What thing?”

“The _thing!_ I’m actually really into it. I don’t think I’m alone in feeling that way … ” Richard looks down the line for some support from his fellow competitors.

“There were some pretty intimate moments between you two during my series,” beams Ed. “People bring that kinda stuff up on the podcast _all the time._ ”

“I seem to recall in our series they shared a lovely little kiss,” Liza coos.

Kerry laughs, “Yeah, well in ours there was a leash used at some point and a solid slap across the face.”

“Right!?” Lou pipes up, “I definitely remember you two being way more handsy.”

“ _He’s_ handsy,” insists Alex.

“I guess it was usually a bit one-sided - _what d’you call that_ \- a one-sided handsiness - ” Lou ponders, “A mauling? A groping?”

“Oh – thanks for that,” scoffs Greg.

“All I was trying to say is you guys seemed to tone it down a touch by the tenth series, that’s all, felt a tad less tawdry.”

Alex interjects, “I had to sing a punishment song.” 

Greg sneers. “Well – there was never any intentional toning down, Rich – just kind of limited by the – you know – worldwide pandemic. _But …_ ” He turns, Alex could feel his gaze burning a hole through his temple. One hand gently squeezes at his upper arm. “ … if that’s the sort of thing you lot go in for, I mean - Alex is more than happy to oblige.” 

Greg extends one foot. This simple action alone enough for him to fully understand his intentions. There are uncomfortable giggles and a collection of cringed faces as Alex oozes off his chair to bend down and kiss Greg’s shoe. Closed mouth kisses. Just polite pecks. This was for the show after all, he had to remind himself.

“Good boy. Some of us only dream of such a pleasure.” His attention twists to the far right. “Innit that right, Rich? This more what you had in mind, _is it? Jealous?_ ”

“Is that gonna make the edit!?” Ed is perched on the very edge of his chair, his actual astonishment quite evident.

“I said it once, I’ll say it again - _greedy bottoms._ ” Greg and Liza share a knowing grin.

Alex begins to return to his usual position. “Did I say stop? Continue.”

He winces, his eyes wide with warning, that he wouldn’t be able to block it all out much longer; and yet, dutifully, he dips down to dot a few more kisses along his shoe.

Greg milks the whole thing only a few more seconds, but just long enough for an awkward, cringe level silence to fall heavily throughout the entire studio. 

“Alright, that’s enough for now. Take a seat. _Ah ah ah!_ ” Greg glares at him from over the rim of his glasses. Alex drips down into a cross-legged position on the floor in front of his smaller sized throne.

He refers back to his card. “Right back where he belongs.”

“Quite right, Greg. Thank you.”

“Tell us about today’s prize task category, Alex.”

“This week the contestants were asked to bring in the most _hardcore_ thing. You – Greg Davies – _Taskmaster of Taskmasters_ \- will judge which item to be the most hardcore and at the end of the episode the winner will go home with five extremely niche and/or extremely explicit items to enjoy in all sorts of different scenarios – so let’s see which definition they’ve gone for, Greg.”

“Ed, please, impress me with your hardcore thing.”

His smile manages to suppress half his giggle. “Surprisingly, I didn’t go explicit.”

“That is surprising.”

“Hear me out, hardcore is typically a very punk word. A heavy metal word. So, now that live shows are finally back, the most hardcore way to spend your weekend is by taking advantage of this - two two-day passes to … _DeathFest!_ To shove and shout and drink and fight. Basically, I’ve brought in a whole hardcore weekend.”

“Okay. I’m looking around this room. Who’s _actually_ going to this concert?”

Lou's hand shoots up!

“There! See! Me and Lou getting down and dirty in the old mosh pit.”

“Oh, sorry. Do I have to take you?”

“Well, no, but I just thought - ”

“Think I’d rather go with a bit of a younger vintage to be honest.”

Ed flashes her a crooked smile. “Fair play.” 

“Kerry. You’re up. What’s your hardcore thing, and why is it the most hardcore?”

“It’s this.” A photo flashes up on the screen. A brown leather corset with steel-boning, a black hat complete with old school aviation goggles and a pair of boots, covered in buckles. “It’s an entire steam punk outfit, Greg.”

“Right. I dunno - _is it hardcore?_ ”

“Yes! It is. No, it is, you tell me, someone’s just walking up your street and they’ve got that on, and what, you’re not gonna say like, hey check out this guy here, _bit hardcore, no?”_

“I’m really not sure how I feel about it, Kerry. Oh, wait, no I do actually – _horseshit_. Liza, what have you brought in and tell me, why is it the most hardcore? And I’m telling you right now, it better not be _just some shitty old cosplay getup._ ”

“Hey!” Kerry barks.

“Mine is more something I’ve done.” 

“I’m intrigued so far.”

“She’s done – _this_.” Alex embellishes his pressing of the fake button on his tablet.

They all shift to see as the photo appears on the big screen behind them. A graffiti-style spray painted tag appears, LT in bold black letters and framed by devil horns. She giggles and squirms about in her seat. “I committed a little vandalism. Crimes, are very hardcore I should think, and if we zoom out _just a bit_ , I think you’ll really appreciate this next one, Greg.” The second shot reveals the location of her tag, across the side panel of a car. 

Greg smirks. “For the audience – and those of you at home - I feel I should make it very clear – who’s car is that, Alex?”

“That’s my car, Greg.” He frowns.

Greg laughs and looks to Liza. “When’d you do this?”

“Right before the show,” she cackles, “It’s just sitting out there now!”

Greg goes hysterical, thrashing about in his throne.

“It’s a very hardcore effort Liza, I really loved it, but what will the winner actually get - because certainly they can’t take home that graffiti.”

“I did take one last picture – it’s the prize of schadenfreude, we feel better about ourselves, when we see someone else suffer.”

“Especially when it’s Alex,” Greg adds. 

“Exactly. So – now the winner can share in the sheer joy of Alex’s crushed face - upon discovering what I’d done.”

“I wasn’t happy. Here it is.”

It perfectly captures his head-in-hands genuine reaction alongside her graffiti. 

“Well, that does make it decidedly more hardcore. Lou – that’s gonna be pretty hard to beat - what’s your hardcore thing?”

“Well – it won’t be _too hard to beat it_ – with this - I’ve went with the more explicit option, Greg. It’s something that deep down everyone wants. A two month membership to the notoriously hardcore porn site - k!nk.com. _Beat it_ , I think the winner most definitely will be.”

Ed instantly raises his hand. “I would want to win this, Greg.”

“Oh, we all to win Lou’s thing! That much is obvious, mate. Richard, can you beat the prize of actual pornography?”

“Oddly enough, I think I can – mine is pretty porn-y, porn-ish? It’s this.” Richard pulls out some papers, they’re stapled in the corner resembling some sort of essay. “I’ve gone for something which hits on both definitions.” He bridges the two step gap to Greg, presents him the papers as a student might with a cherished final assignment, and retreats back to his chair. “It’s a fanfiction story - one that unashamedly ships you both, it’s a Greg and Alex slash fic. That’s some pretty hardcore stuff I can assure you.” 

“Oh, that is fucking good,” Ed admits.

“This isn’t news to us, Rich. We already know it exists, we’ve seen it - ”

“We’ve sang it. _Sung it?”_

“My point is - _so what_ – so you just searched around online and printed out a dirty story about us and - ” 

“No. I wrote that one. And I posted it, a ways back - to the biggest fanfiction site going, under a false name of course. But, you can see there the number of people who’ve stumbled upon it - so far – and it’s even earned a few _kudos_.”

Greg is genuinely astounded by this revelation and starts rifling through the pages. “It’s quite lengthy, _innit?”_ He leans down to show Alex a certain page in particular, shakes his head and smiles strangely as he continues to scan. Wanting to linger a bit, but knowing the constraints of the shoot and the necessity to move on, he keeps it brief. “It’s all a bit weird, Rich.”

“No - not weird - _hardcore_. As you’ll see it’s an extremely explicit tale, as well as being created for an extremely niche audience to appreciate. And boy have they appreciated it, the comments are at the end there. Can’t get much more hardcore than all that, I’d say.”

He skims a couple more pages. “I mean - Jesus Christ." _  
_

“Would you like to start with last place, Greg?”

“Yes, I most certainly would. And I don’t want to hear any arguments or everyone’s getting zero. I’m giving Kerry’s weirdo outfit one point. It’s not hardcore, it’s - nerdy.” 

She opens her mouth, but quickly clamps it shut, looking to either side for nonexistent support. 

“Ed - two points. It is hardcore, but I don’t want to go to it. Lou – I won’t deny - _we all want it_ , more than any of the other prizes here – but it’s just some porn, innit – so three points. Liza has proven herself a truly hardcore badass bitch for tagging up your ride so she’s getting four points. And finally, _fuck_ \- I can’t believe I’m doing this, but it’s by far the most explicit and by far the most niche, it’s this sex story about us. Richard Herring takes the big ole five points.”

…

“Stop by my dressing room when you get a chance, okay?”

Alex looks up from his paperwork to see Greg leaning against the door frame. “Sure. Anything up, or - ?”

“Oh, no. No rush. Just whenever you’re all finished up here.”

  
The paper pile dissipates and the number of emails dwindle as outside daylight is fading fast. The fog, that’s stubbornly hung around much of the day descends down upon them once more, thick and mysterious. Stifling, even. Alex tidies up his desk. He hears the hum from down the hallway as the cleaner begins to buff the floors for the night. Other than that – there was only silence. This building, so full of voices and strong personalities during the day, always seemed so lifeless, mere hours later. He gives his office a last once-over to ensure that it was clean and exactly the way he’d like to walk into it the following day. He flicks out the light, locks the door and catches the eye of the buffer, giving him a friendly wave. It’s returned.

…

“Greg?” He’s sat slumped in his usual chair. “I'm all done if you still wanted to - ”

“C’mere.” Engrossed in his phone, he does not look up. “And close the door behind you.” He clicks it closed, walks toward him and then waits, patiently, but not without a certain wariness. Finally, Greg sets his phone on a nearby table and sits up. His eyes drag from legs to lips, lascivious and all-consuming.

“Now that we’re alone, I’d like you to indulge yourself a bit. Show me what you’d like to have done, yeah, on set, when you were kissing my shoe. At my feet. In front of everyone. Every dirty thought you withheld, everything you blocked out out there in order to remain – the consummate professional – I’d like you to take a moment now to really _revel_ in all you denied yourself earlier.”

“Whatever I like? You’re not going to - ”

“No tricks, Alex. Seriously, _go nuts.”_

“And - ?”

“ _And_ \- if you ask me one more fucking question, I’ll be rescinding my more than generous offer.” Greg reaches out, fingers curving behind his knees, thumbs rubbing circles along the sides of his legs. “I’m all done casting judgements for the day – you should feel free - to do precisely as you please.”

Alex gulps. His knees naturally buckle beneath him.

Every move he made was careful, measured – appreciative. As he unties his shoes. As he slides them from his feet. Rolls his trouser legs up. Drags a colorful patterned sock down to expose a bare foot, fingertips tracing the contours of his sole. Soft, supple skin. He does the same with the other, and then rolls up each sock, placing them neatly inside their corresponding shoe. He was methodical, and slow throughout, and then seemed all at once, to lose himself entirely.

Alex moans lowly, as little pecks - like on the show, devolve into the breathy kisses of backstage. His mouth, ravenous, his movements, increasingly chaotic. His breath, ragged as he licks and sucks at each toe individually.

“That feels very nice, Alex. Yeah, foot sluts just _love_ to be of service, don’t they?”

“ _Yes_ , I love being of service - I love - being of service to _you, Greg.”_

“Good answer.”

Greg crosses his legs, giving Alex fuller access to his foot. He sits up, to properly worship what had been so kindly offered, and in doing so renders his arousal rather obvious.

“ _Mmm_ , easily excitable, as always.” Greg grinds his other foot into his growing erection. “Nice to see _some things_ never change. I’ve missed you – this last lockdown. Maybe now that we’re officially post pandemic, it’s about time for one of my parties, aye. Best keep my little attention whore busy, focused. Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You love it when everyone can see exactly what sort of a slut you are – for me.”

Alex nods in agreement as he rubs his cheeks deeply against his soles, mouth feeling out the shape and curve of his arches.

“Don’t hold back on me now, Alex, not until you’ve done every filthy thing you thought of out there.”

He looks up questioningly at Greg, muscles quaking, fumbling with one hand to unzip his pants. 

Greg smiles warmly. “Yeah, that’s it. What a good boy. I was a little hard on you out there today.” He cups his cheek in his hand, Alex leans his head heavily into it and sighs. “But only because I knew – that I was about to spoil you fucking rotten.”

Alex starts to stroke himself, all but devouring the foot that hovers before him. Faster and faster, tongue and lips more forceful – less romantic and more animal – raw, instinctual actions he felt he no longer had any control over – it was just him - with no filters and no self consciousness to affect this most primal behaviour. Faster and faster, precome slickening his head, he palms at it until he – _“Can I really?”_

“D’you think you can _really_ stop yourself, at this point.” Greg teases it out a bit, good-naturedly mimicking his contorted faces, his desperate noises, but soon caves. “Alright. Go ahead.” 

He immediately comes all over his feet with a satisfied squeak.

“My perfect little pet. You make quite the mess, and I’m forever having to clean up after you, but you’re well worth it.” Alex chuckles despite himself, and watches on curiously as Greg cleans his feet with a nearby damp cloth, as though already prepared for this precise eventuality. He slips on his socks and shoes as Alex tidies his own person.

Greg pulls him to his feet, he had such strength, and yet his touch could be so gentle, in all the right moments. “Take a seat.” Alex is still dazed as he guides him into his now vacated chair. “Would you like to know what that feels like - _for me?_ From my perspective?”

He looks up, nods. Slowly. Uncertainly. Cautiously.

Greg raps his knuckle against the wall. There are a few unspoken seconds of suspense as Greg turns to watch the door. He smiles, smugly. “You’ll enjoy this.”

The door opens, it was Herring. Alex shifts uneasily in Greg’s chair. 

_“Hey Gr_ \- ” His dreamy face almost instantly drops alongside his disappointed sigh. “Oh, Alex is – uh, sorry – I – no, I thought that - ”

“You thought … _what Rich – hmm_ \- that it would be _just me?”_

“Well, yeah. Kind of.” He runs a hand through his hair, primps it. “You definitely implied that - ”

“That you might be able to _please me?_ You know, I wasn’t wrong about that. You may still be able to. See, only trouble is, you haven’t earned that - _not yet._ So … ” Greg runs a hand through his hair, primps it, then grabs a fistful – tight. “If you _do_ want to please me - you’ll please _Alex_.”

“But - ”

Greg lets go of his grip. “What’s the matter, _hmm?_ Don’t want to kneel before a man you very clearly envy?”

_“Kneel?”_

“Yeah. Unless you’re extremely flexible, I don’t see how else you’ll be able to properly worship his feet. Alex – get your shoes and socks off – _now_. Come on, Rich, don’t you wanna prove to daddy that you can do a good job. I mean, who knows, one day, I might, _just maybe_ , return the favour, right?”

Richard begins to lower to his knees, Greg points toward Alex and he turns as he reaches the floor.

“Was that another huff I just heard?”

Alex agrees, “Definitely another huff, Greg.”

“Well?! What are we waiting for? Get to work. And I’m watching you – so make sure to put on a good show.”

Herring bends down and dots tiny, tentative pecks along the tops of his feet. He hesitates.

“What’s the problem down there, Rich?”

“I wouldn’t say he seems overly enthusiastic.”

“I don’t think he’s as into feet as you.”

“It was more that they were gonna be _your_ feet, Greg,” he mutters from below.

“Ah, I see. Well - you'd better close your eyes and picture it Rich, because if I don’t see some improvement pretty soon, this is as close as you’re ever gonna get to my feet. I’m watching. I’m imagining myself in Alex’s place right now and you’re _really_ not doing it for me.”

“That’s a bit better now. I think he just needs the encouragement, Greg.”

“ _Ohhh!_ Is that it, Rich? Does daddy’s little boy just need to be talked through it.”

“Yes.”

He moved with more fervor now. More purpose.

“Does my voice really do it for you? Or, is it more what I’m saying, d’you think?”

“It’s both.”

“It’s both.” Greg and Alex share a devious smile. “So you just have a general all around kinda crush on me, aye Rich? It’s not so much the scenario as it is the man, _hmm_. I wonder - just how far you’d go - if I was watching – if I told you to do it – _for me._ ”

“Like suck Alex’s cock?”

Greg flashes Alex an amused face and allows that sentiment to hang in the air a moment. 

“I never said that. Funny, you did.”

Greg’s hand winds it's way into the back of his hair once more. Richard’s muscles go limp. Greg presses his lips firmly to foot, controls his pace, conducts his movements. “You like being guided. Showed the right way to do something. Have you never done any of this before? Alex could show you a thing or two – about pleasing me – you’d like to learn all about that, wouldn’t you – I can already tell, from what little I saw from your story, how absolutely desperate you are to please me … ”

Herring inconspicuously rubs at his painful, straining erection and manages to unzip his jeans.

“Hey! _What the fuck Rich_ \- what’re you doing?”

“I – I thought - ”

“Did I say the words just _do whatever you please?"_

“No.”

“No.” He lets go of Richard’s hair and moves behind Alex, hands possessively perched upon his shoulders. “So, that’s what you imagine then, is it, that I just let Alex do whatever he pleases, _hmm_ … Can you believe this guy, Alex? Thinking I would _ever_ give you any sort of special privileges. Me, giving you the special treatment. Can you even imagine. _Rich!_ Did I ask you to stop? This is all really quite simple, and yet you continue to fuck it up – _do as you are told_ , and only as you are told.”

Richard dives back down and does his very best to vicariously please Greg by actually pleasing Alex, but all his efforts were sadly, too little too late.

“You know very well that Alex here has had years to earn my good favour, and you, well, so far I’m hardly impressed. If I had wanted your pathetic little dick to be involved I would have made it abundantly clear from the start. You need to be more eager to enjoy the small things in life, if you want to earn your way onto the bigger and the better.”

“At this rate, I don’t know if he’ll _ever earn it._ ”

“Pretty lacklustre performance, aye. I can see deep down that you’d like to be what Alex is to me, _hmm_ , but truth is - you couldn’t handle it, Rich – and you’ll never even come close. Besides, what would I possibly want with you when I already have the perfect boy. Stop. Look at me.” Greg is intensely petting Alex. He melts beneath his hands. Rich pales with jealousy.

“Maybe next time, you’ll behave yourself a bit better. Get out.”

Richard huffs. Zips himself back up. Tousles his hair. And makes for the door.

“That last one - definitely a huff,” Greg notes.

 _“Hey, Rich?”_ Alex calls out.

Herring turns, eyes nothing but daggers. 

“See you tomorrow - _mate_ ,” he adds cheekily. 

“You guys are _fucked_.” He storms out.

The pair share a good laugh.

… 

“I've missed you too, Greg – this last lockdown.”


End file.
